Consigning Fate: Beginnings Series Book 23

by Jacqueline Druga

  He envisioned himself many times with a wife and children and living in Society. But when it came down to it, Roy missed his seclusion and his own world.

  He didn’t want to stay in Beginnings, so therefore he remained hid. He was tired of the hiding. The trailer was musty, cold, and didn’t smell good. The food he received was when he went into Bowman or into center town. How many times had Gemma said to him, “Wow you must be hungry? You’re back.”

  But the trailer was his only source of seclusion, and safe hiding.

  Watching his Beginnings counterpart afforded him the opportunity to pose as him when he need something. But admittedly, Roy got nervous. There wasn’t enough text book knowledge about his genetic model, so Roy risked being ‘outed’ every time someone talked to him.

  There were few close calls. Especially with Danny Hoi.

  Henry was none the wiser, even though Roy totally screwed up.

  The trailer remained his best bet. So he spent multitudes of time there. No one went there. If they did, it was brief.

  All he wanted was to fix the HG Wells and leave.

  Hopefully, that wouldn’t take too long.

  <><><><>

  “Oh, yeah,” Frank graveled his voice with a pleased nod as he stepped into the temporary trailer set up just outside where they were going to construct the new offices. It was empty all but for a long meeting table in chairs. That was when he first saw it. He used the time before his meeting to bring in his computer and desk.

  He was pretty happy with it and no one would be cramped.

  When Danny showed up and said he had a surprise, Frank thought it had to do with the information he asked for with the SUT tracker. But Danny said he was on his way to do that. But wanted to share.

  He gave Frank the keys.

  John Matoose was working on a way to show everyone at the meeting a video, and Robbie said he, too had information to share at the meeting.

  Something was missing. Frank made a call, “Hey, Trish, you feel like playing secretary for a little bit?”

  “What did you need me to do, Frank, I have appointments.”

  “I’m having a really important meeting and I was thinking coffee. I can come in town and get it if …”

  “No. No problem. I can use the break.”

  After thanking Trish, Frank went back to gearing up for the meeting. There was one snag. Danny found a glitch in the SUT tracker program and was having a hard time pulling up the history. He promised Frank he would work on it and bring the data as soon as he had it.

  Frank wanted that information going into the meeting, but just getting it would help.

  He really needed to know where Dean was when the office exploded.

  Hal grinned. “Do you remember when my brother walked around with that card from Dean? The one that said, temporarily mentally disabled?”

  Elliott chuckled. “I actually do.”

  “I think my brother is suffering from temporarily mentally proper.”

  “Captain?” Elliott asked.

  “He’s coming back, slowly but surely, and when I implement my plan my brother will be my brother.”

  “How do you think that will affect him being a leader?”

  “Not at all,” Hal shook his head. “My brother, when it comes to the good of this community, will be perfect. But he needs to be the hardheaded, dense Frank this community loves and hates, or I don’t think he’ll be as effective.”

  “I have to agree. So, tell me, what makes you so sure it’s temporary.”

  “This.” Hal ripped the note from Frank’s office door, and read it. “Turn to your right and walk twenty feet.” Hal smiled. “Not only did my brother spell the word trailer wrong, he gave directions to it.” Hal pointed to the easy to spot metal mobile.

  Elliott laughed.

  “Let’s go see my brother.” Hal walked with Elliott to the trailer office.

  They knocked.

  Frank opened the door.

  Hal held up the note. “You give good directions.”

  “Did you take my note down, Hal?” Frank asked.

  “It appears so, yes.”

  “Fuck.” Frank took it and walked out of the trailer, he returned in a few seconds.

  “Where were you?” Hal asked.

  “Putting my note back. The others won’t know where to go.”

  “Did you think maybe radioing them?”

  Frank paused. “Yes. But …” he cleared his throat. “I was busy. So what do you think?”

  “About?” Hal asked.

  “My fucking temporary office,” Frank said. “Ryder. What do you think?”

  “I like it,” Elliott responded.

  Hand on hip, Frank nodded. “It’s almost like it’s a room for a board. But then, that’s sort of what we are. Instead of a cabinet, we can call ourselves that.”

  “Board?” Hal asked.

  “Yes.” Frank answered.

  “Board of Beginnings?” questioned Hal.

  “Huh?”

  “Board of Beginnings?”

  “No.”

  “No?” Hal tilted his head. “Not board of Beginnings.”

  “Why are you asking me that?” Frank snapped.

  Hal huffed. “Because you said it first.”

  “No, I didn’t.”

  “Yes, you did,” Hal was insistent. “Elliott didn’t he?”

  “I believe you did, Frank.”

  “I said I was bored?”

  Hal exhaled. “Not bored as in bored. Board as in board.”

  Frank stared.

  “Frank?”

  “Fuck, Hal.” Frank growled, walked by Hal, and out the door.

  Hal tossed out his hands. “Where did he go now?”

  Elliot shrugged.

  Frank opened the door and walked in. His whole demeanor had changed; he stood a bit taller, and cleared his throat before speaking. “I believe we had some miscommunication. I’m sorry for that. I don’t think calling us the board would work. People may get confused.”

  The corner of Hal’s mouth raised in a smile. “They may.”

  “Yeah, so.” Frank cleared his throat again “We’re the cabinet.”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Have a seat, Trish will be bringing coffee and Robbie and John Matoose will be here soon.” Frank took his seat at the head of the table.

  Hal paused while pulling out his chair. “Why are one of my men coming here?”

  “Because your man is working in Beginnings again.” Frank said.

  Elliott interjected. “I wasn’t aware Captain; perhaps wires got crossed when I granted him leave to come back here for a week.”

  Hal looked at Frank. “He’s only here for a week.”

  Frank shook his head. “Not for now. I have him on something.”

  Snippy, Hal said. “You can’t just take my man.”

  “Yes, I can.”

  “No, you can’t.”

  “I can.”

  “You gave him up,” Hal argued.

  “I need him back.”

  “You can’t just take him.”

  “I can,” Frank said.

  “Says who.”

  Frank fluttered his lips. “Says me. I’m the fucking president.”

  After a slight clearing of his throat to chase away the chuckle, Elliot whispered. “He has a point.”

  Hal turned sharp to Elliot, “I don’t need you to encourage this.”

  Frank held up his hand. “Can I just have him for another week or two? How’s that? I’m asking. I have him on something. And besides, he found out some very valuable information.”

  “Can I ask what it is?”

  There was a knock on the door.

  “You’re about to find out,” Frank said, then aimed his voice. “Come in.”

  John Matoose, arms full, slipped in the door. “I’m not late am I?” he asked. “Hey, Frank good thing you left that note I wouldn’t have known where to find you guys.”

  After giving a smug look t
o Hal, Frank showed John where to set up his equipment. It as a matter of just waiting for Robbie—and hopefully Danny—and they could start.

  Another call from Danny, stating he was going to be a bit longer, prompted Frank to begin. John was all set up, and they began with that.

  “Why is Uncle Frank running so fast?” Billy’s voice played over the tape.

  Jenny replied, “Why is Uncle Frank running …?”

  Boom.

  Not a man in the room didn’t jolt.

  John stopped the tape.

  Hal ran his hand over his mouth with a heavy breath. “I can’t believe that tape was found.”

  “Neither can I,” said John. “Just today.”

  Elliott pointed, slowly. “Someone came out of the office. Who was it?”

  Frank nodded to John.

  John played the tape, stopped it, rewound, and froze it.

  Hal rose from his seat. “Dean?”

  Frank stood and turned on the lights. “Looks that way.”

  Hal asked, “Where does SUT tracking have him at that time?”

  “I’m waiting for word from Danny. He should be here soon,” Frank said.

  Robbie added. “I got the name from Darrell. He woke to tell me that Dean was there. Didn’t say much more, just that.”

  “I’ve been on Darrell,” John said. “Check this out. There’s nothing physically wrong with him. I haven’t confirmed, but Melissa said Lars found something in his blood. Like he was drugged or being drugged.”

  Robbie continued, “Which makes sense to me. If Dean doesn’t want him to wake up. Dean would be drugging him.”

  Hal shook his head. “Then why wouldn’t Dean just kill him. Surely a man with his medical intelligence could do so easily. Doesn’t make sense.”

  “That’s true,” Robbie said. “Check this out. We all know the explosive used was C-4. It was placed in a thermos mug, and was triggered by a timer. Because we all know the way C-4 works, we all know I was able to gather a lot of the pieces from the explosive device. This afternoon I was able to pull fingerprints from the mug, handle, and buttons on the timer. So we match up the print, we find our killer, because our killer would have set that timer.”

  “How many prints?” Frank asked.

  “Just one set, same set. I’m running matches as soon as I get back.”

  Frank nodded. “And you have a print on the timer?”

  “The most important print,” Robbie said. “Someone else could have handled that mug; no one else was touching that timer.”

  “Excellent.”

  Hal raised his hand slightly. “May I say something? As much as I am not a Dean fan, this doesn’t make sense to me. What is his motive?”

  “It’s weak, but I can establish one,” Robbie said.

  “What is it?” Hal asked.

  Robbie replied. “Both Henry and Richie will testify that Dean left the townhouse angry at Joe. That he was on his way to see Joe, and even said he was killing Joe.”

  Hal shook his head “Still, it doesn’t make sense. I keep going back to the fact that every wrong doing in this community has somehow, at some point, been linked to Dean. He’s been a pawn. He’s been the fall guy. The victim of bad luck. But he’s always been innocent.”

  “But this time,” Frank added. “He could have been the victim of good timing. He may have stopped to see Dad, left, and then boom.”

  “Bullshit,” Robbie snapped. “No. He wasn’t that far away when the explosion happen. Dean gave the fuckin sob story he was sleeping. He said he didn’t know. If he was all that innocent, and that close to the crime, why didn’t he say anything?”

  Elliott whispered in a self-mutter, “That’s because it’s not Dean.”

  Everyone looked at him.

  “Ryder?” Frank asked. “What did you say?”

  Elliott cleared his throat. “I may be wrong. I don’t know. But that’s not Dean.”

  “What are you talking about?” Robbie questioned. “It’s fuckin Dean, look at him.”

  Elliott nodded. “I am. It looks like him. Built like him. Absolutely. But … are we forgetting gentlemen that messages and circumstances have to lead us to the conclusion that Joe’s killer was not from Beginnings. Look at this man.” Elliott walked to the screen. “His hair. It’s longer.”

  “So.” Robbie said.

  “I can’t believe none of you thought of this,” Elliott said. “Dean got a haircut the day before the wedding. The day before this video. He got his hair cut. I was there. I was next in line. If this was taken after the haircut, then why is his hair still longer?”

  Frank asked. “The clone?”

  Elliott nodded. “We’ve been wondering who the clone was.”

  “Hold on,” John spoke up. “There’s a clone in Beginnings?”

  Frank spoke fast. “Nutshell. Fort said he was from the future. Said he was chasing a clone of someone from Beginnings. The info we got was the clone could be responsible for my father’s death.”

  “No.” Robbie argued. “The clone is not Dean. Dad asked for a list of names of people Dean had cloned. Dean’s name wasn’t on that list.”

  Hal added, “But if I recall, Dad was suspicious about that. Why wouldn’t Dean clone himself? Dad asked for a list of names of the clones he created and destroyed.”

  Robbie plopped down in the chair. “What the fuck? A Dean clone?”

  Frank fluttered his lips. “How do you think I feel about that? Two of them.”

  Robbie projected defeat. “How the hell are we supposed to pin a murder on a clone if it looks like Dean did it and we can’t find the clone.”

  “Wait. Wait.” Hal interjected. “We can’t assume this. Elliott may be wrong. This could be Dean. We may be barking up the wrong tree. We just need proof. Once we have proof, we can come up with a plan of action on what to do. To get the clone. We just need proof.”

  At that moment following a single knock, Danny entered. “Hey Frank. Sorry.”

  Frank smiled. “Yes. Just the man we needed to see.”

  “Cool.” Danny grinned. “I worked out the bug and got that info for you.”

  “What do you have?”

  Danny looked around the faces. “They all know what info I was getting?”

  “Yes,” Frank replied. “And this is perfect timing. Where was Dean at the time of my father’s death?”

  “I can’t say what he was doing,” Danny said. “He wasn’t moving. Between the hours of roughly eleven AM and way past the time Joe died … Dean was in the clinic. A back room. I suppose sleeping just like he said.”

  “And there’s no way he could have made it appear that way?” Frank asked. “And gone somewhere else?”

  “Nope.” Danny said. “This tracker is programmed to his chip. Each chip has a special number. Unless he performed brain surgery and walked blind. No. He was at the clinic.”

  All reactions were the same. Stunned. Robbie widened his eyes with an exhale. Hal was shocked. John was in awe. Elliott held a gloating look.

  Frank smiled and nodded. “Thank you Danny.”

  “What am I missing?” Danny asked.

  “Nothing.” Frank looked at Hal. “Proof enough?”

  “Proof enough,” Hal said. “Now we need a plan.”

  <><><><>

  The smaller plane was in perfect condition, but George Hadley just wanted to give it the once over … again.

  He closed the hatch to the right engine, and wiped his hands on a towel. The final check.

  “All set,” George said to a maintenance man standing by.

  “Shall I get her fueled now?”

  George nodded. “Refuel her, yes. Full tank. I’ll be back.”

  He had things to do first. Stewart Lang had just returned to Quantico. George hadn’t had a chance to see him, but needed to make time. While speaking to Stewart he made arrangements to get in contact if he was needed. He didn’t know how long he was going to be gone, but he wanted daily check ins.

  The new Sgt. Ma
jor seemed to be working out nicely as a temporary replacement for Bertha Callahan who was recovering. What George needed was for Bertha to recover and recover quickly. But he didn’t know the time frame he had, so he left instructions for the Sergeant Major to begin implementing a countryside alert. Deploy all troops as soon as possible to various locations.

  Troops, equipment and artillery.

  Stewart had asked if they should mobilize the troops now. George didn’t think so. The impending Great War he was told about had no details. He didn’t want to move his troops to the worst spots or most vulnerable spots.

  Not until he knew more. He would soon. Hopefully.

  He left Stewart for his next stop, telling Lang to prep notification to send to his destination.

  He would leave in the morning or afternoon. Notification could be sent out then.

  On to Callahan. She was making progress. The chip program of Danny Hoi’s worked like a charm and she was responding and talking. Seeing and hearing. The doctors said she would be back on her feet in no time.

  She even recognized George and asked about things. He didn’t tell her much. He wanted her to get strong and well.

  She had lost the baby she was carrying. Fortunately, she was too consumed with dealing with her recovery.

  “We’ll try again,” she said.

  George winced. Winced at the vision of six foot something Callahan in her masculine build glory fornicating with three foot, teenage, height deficient, Tigger Manis. It wasn’t right. It just wasn’t right. But she felt she was falling in love with the eighteen year old boy.

  To each his own.

  Manis was the last stop George had to make for the night.

  Not Tigger but Mike. The little man’s towering father who was the chief of Police of Lodi. Mike, a prisoner of Quantico when he came on a mission to kill George and in the process shot Robbie and Callahan.

  “Are they treating you well?” George asked.

  Mike spit on the floor and stood from his bunk. “Oh, yeah, they let me out of my box twice a day to walk.”

  “You have food, water, clothes; you’re clean and not beaten. Don’t be so disgruntled.”

  “Why the fuck do you care how they are treating me?” Mike asked hard.

  “Actually, I really don’t.” George said, standing, hands in pockets. “I wanted you dead. You came to kill me. You trespassed, shot my best man. Shot Robbie. You should be dead.”